


Don't ask, don't tell

by RedRarebit



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Ignoring the you-know-what, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Space Husbands, its hard to be open when you're used to not having that luxury, not canon compliant and not apologetic about it, peter despairs, spoilers for GotG2, these space pirates are hopeless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-10-29 01:54:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10844076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedRarebit/pseuds/RedRarebit
Summary: Some habits are ingrained, after over two decades of being practiced. Having done it that long, you'd think they'd be better at it.





	Don't ask, don't tell

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Write_like_an_American](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Write_like_an_American/gifts).



Its the sobbing she can’t bear.

Kraglin is a man she barely knows, and yet his pain is as familiar to her as any other. Yondu is not dead - dying, perhaps, if they cannot bring him back to balance, but for now his heart still beats and his chest rises and falls weakly with each laborious breath. And he has not yet opened his eyes from where they’ve thawed shut, the frost melting from his skin, leaving dark-blue bruising mottled all over him.

But for now, he lives. And sleeps. And while he sleeps, Kraglin does not. In fact, the scrawny Hraxlian has not left the bed they gently placed Yondu in since he got there, barring restroom breaks that he seems to rush through impatiently. Food goes mostly untouched, aside from a few mouthfuls that he swallows under protest, and only some hot, thick broth-like substance that Peter pours into a mug and shoves in his hand. The latter, Gamora suspects, he drinks out of habit, old bridge muscle memory bringing a hot mug to his lips while he keeps vigil. 

Not vigil, she corrects herself sharply. Vigils are for the dead. 

But its the night that breaks her heart. Kraglin must think them all asleep, and they usually are. Sometimes she can hear the tinny sound of Peters music through the walls, or Rocket tinkering away, his low voice murmuring something to himself. But up here, in the Ravagers quarters, theres no sound except the heaving, whining, breathless sobs of a beast cut loose from its master.

Gamora will happily admit she knows only the basics about Hraxlians. Fierce fighters, pack animals, tightly controlled on their own planet due to population booms and scarcely allowed out into the galaxy. She does not know Kraglins history, though she suspects some of it - either a stowaway or sold, thrust into a galaxy without prior preparation and clinging onto the first group that would take him. But she can put two and two together, and come to the conclusion that whatever has transpired in his past, Yondu was at the center of it. 

A father figure, she wonders. A brother, perhaps? Wherever his grief has taken him, its far away enough that he doesn’t hear her standing in the doorframe. He’s clutching Yondus hand in both of his, lips pressed to blue fingers as if in prayer. The curve of his back looks painful from this angle, his shoulders hunched and shaking with each unsteady inhale. Thankfully he finally uncurled himself, leaning up to kiss Yondus forehead. She smiled a little, an expression that faltered when Kraglin shifted down, pressing his lips to Yondus for a warm moment.

“I-” His head whipped round at the noise, his expression changing from blotchy with tear-stains to pale, almost ghostly white. Gamora quickly raised her hands to show she was unarmed - not that it did much, given Kraglins answering snarl. “I didn’t mean to intrude!”

“Well you did!” Kraglin wobbles when he gets up and she flinched for him, almost reaching out to catch him before she corrected herself. Aside from him looking as if any touch might shatter him right now, she had no desire to touch him in this state. For one thing, Kraglin probably hadn’t showered since before the mutiny, which was disturbing. “What’re you lookin’ for, lady?”

“I just - came to see if you wanted, something to drink-”

“And instead you hung around spyin’ t’get an eyeful.” At least Kraglin knew better than to get right up in her face. Instead his stance was protective at the end of Yondus bed, one hand pressed back and on his leg as if to keep track of him. “Gonna go tell all y’fuckin lil Guardian buddies-”

“Kraglin-”

“That what, the big bad Ravagers take it up the ass?” He sneered at her wince, her nose wrinkling a little in disgust. “Whassa matter, too graphic for you? Aint never done the backdoor dirty?”

“Kraglin!” Gamora said firmly, louder. “I did not mean to intrude or see anything you did not - wish to be seen.” She took in his wary, disbelieving scowl and shook her head, trying to gentle her voice. “This is of no concern to me. Its none of my business.”

“Damned right its not.” 

“And please don’t, worry.” She fought to push past the crudeness. “I’m not about to spread your news.”

“Its not news cos it ain’bein’ told anywhere. Can you get out?” He asked, his tone more defensive than angry as he glowered at her, fingers curling into fists. Whatever Ravagers were, she decided as she backed out, shutting the door and breathing out unsteadily, she couldn't imagine they were particularly easy to get on with.

The next morning, she was surprised when Peter took her to one side. The others had eaten breakfast and drifted off to do whatever it was they chose to - Rocket, she was sure, was going to visit Yondu. His expression was unusually serious, and she schooled hers to something similar to try and make sense of what he was about to say.

“Kraglin,” He began, paused at her wince, and carried on. “Tells me you uh. Walked in on something last night.”

“I didn’t mean to.” She hissed in response. “I arrived at the wrong moment at the wrong time.”

“Yeah, I’m guessin’ so since he seems pretty het up.” Peter gave her a wry little smile, sitting down at what he calls the ‘breakfast bar’ with an absurd amount of pride. “Look, don’t tell him I’m talkin’ to you about it, but anything you wanna know-”

“Is Kraglin a - female, of their species?”

“What?” He blinked, then frowned, surprised. “No. No, hell, can you even imagine if he’s an example of the women-”

“So they are both,” Gamora made a vague gesture, a habit she was sure she picked up from Peter. “Males. Of their species.”

“Yes.” Peter confirmed, taking in her wondering face. “This can’t be news to you.” 

He can remember the first time he found out. 

\---

"But you're both-" There was something a little pathetic about a naked, wet small Terran snuffling on the floor of the Eclectors shower. Maybe it was because no ones skin should be in contact with the floor for that long, but that was his problem, not Yondus. Peter rubbed the sore spot on his arm, looking down - he almost looked angry. "I don't understand..."

"Who cares." Yondu said, folding his arms and looking down at him with hard eyes. "Aint your job to understand. S'your job to say 'yes sir' and 'no sir' and do as you're damned well told. You might get it when you're older, or you wont. Either way, not gonna change a damned thing."

"But you don't even LOVE him." Peter glowered, his arms folded. He certainly never acted like he did. He didn’t hold Kraglins hand, didn’t hug him, didn’t kiss him. Peter was fairly certain that was all needed to show your love, and instead Kraglin seemed to get bottles of booze hurled at him, and yelled at just as much as the rest of the crew. Yondu stopped walking the other way and came back, mirrored his pose but leaned down to put his face close to the Terrans.

"Don't you ever," Yondu said, his voice so low Peter had to strain to hear him over the prickling of his spine and the rush of blood in his ears. "Ever presume to tell me anything about my own affairs, or talk to me about things you don't know nuthin about. I'll die for him. He'd die for me. Anything else is just window dressin. Now get to scrubbin."

\---

Body shame wasn’t something known in the Ravagers - communal showers, communal rooms, occasionally communal beds if people got too rowdy, drunk, or they’d accidentally been jettisoned again. All of this meant that Peters physical education had come much earlier and far more detailed than most earth childrens, especially in regards to the very, very wide variety of genitals the universe had to offer. 

Part of him wondered if it was that sort of exposure that had made him the man he was today, trying to checklist his way through every configuration out there. He quickly discarded that thought, and took in Gamoras frown.

“Never woulda pegged you as the intolerant sort.” Peters matching frown is as disappointed as it is wary, and she doesn’t like the way he folds his arm over his chest. She opened her mouth to protest and Peter barreled over her, his voice raising as if worried he was going to have to start shouting in earnest. “Should I be tellin’ you that I’ve had a few boyfriends in my past too?”

“Peter, I don’t care- Really?” Gamora tilted her head, a little amazed. “You have?”

“Why is that surprising to you-?!”

“You just don’t seem the - type.” Gamora rolled her eyes when he flung his hands up at that, apparently appalled. “Stop that! I don’t care about that!”

“Then why are you grillin’ me about how and what Yondu and Kraglin get up to?” She doesn’t entirely like the way his accent has slipped back into place, with his father - parental figures? - now lodging with them. Gamora shrugs, a little uneasy.

“They don’t seem the - type.” Granted, she realises her scope of things like this is rather limited. Peter made a questioning noise in his throat, giving her a curious look. “I have not - Peter.” Gamora came to sit with him, putting a hand on his knee. As intended, it distracted his anger a little, made his feathers unruffled. “Peter. I am simply unfamiliar with the notion of it. It didn’t occur to me that Ravagers could-”

“What, love?” Peter snorted a little, his expression wry. “Don’t let them hear you say that word about em. As far as they’re concerned, they’re exclusive just outta laziness.” Her raised eyebrow prompted more. “They been married since before I even got on the ship. Don’t ask em how, they change the story every time.”

“Married-?!” 

“I know, I know. I laughed too!” Peter chuckled a little and she felt some of the tension in her spine relax a little. If he laughed, he’d passed over the water of the argument, to muddle through one of his sayings. “Think everyone else who knew about it went, well.” He made a motion with his hand. “Outta the airlock.”

Did he feel loss for this, she wondered. He must have known the crew that died, on both sides of the mutiny. Some of them must have been friends, brothers in arms or just brothers, given the direction the crew had taken. Now was not the time to press on it though. 

“Look, just, ” His expression gentled to something more familiar on his face, and she smiled at it in return - more a habit than voluntary, but just as well-intentioned. “Leave em alone about it. They’re old. Set in their ways. Let them have this.”

~*~

“I am Groot.”

“Of course I don’t believe you.” Rocket doesn’t even look up from the thing he’s tinkering with, stripping wires down and turning it over and over in his little paws critically. He can still hear something rattling in the depths when he shakes it, and bares his teeth at the device in displeasure before starting to pluck at the inner casing. “You’re telling me something unbelievable, so, I don’t believe you.”

“I am Groot!”

“You want me to believe it.” Rocket glanced up then, into the tiny, pouting wooden face of his Groot. “You want me to believe Ravagers sleep in a massive puppy-pile, with toys and cuddling?”

“I am Groot.” The tree nods, arms folded happily. “I am Groot.”

“The ship wasn’t that cold.” He pauses, assesses the fact that not everyone is blessed with fur, and amends his train of thought. “And they got blankets and stuff anyway. Probably sleep with their clothes on, just to be sensible.”

“I am Groot.”

“I don’t wanna know how you know that, buddy. Besides, of course they don’t. They’re mates. Can smell it all over them.” Rocket twists something and part of the device comes off, prompting an interested noise. The inner cavity is full of tiny balls, and he picks one up delicately between his claws to examine it. 

“I am Groot?”

“Its uh…” Rocket scratched the side of his muzzle self-consciously, thinking it over. “Its when a man and a wom- When two, _people_ , care about each other very much and they…. Cuddle?” Groot thought this over a moment, his little feet kicking the box he was sitting on. He clambered to his feet though, two arms raising in the universal sign for ‘pick me up’. 

“I am Groot!”

“Well, I mean,” Rocket scooped him up anyway, paws closing protectively over the warm wooden back as Groot cuddled onto his chest, fingers curling and twirling the fur on his neck. Rocket chuckled a little, patting gently “Its not quite the same thing. A bit different. But iloveyoutoopal so why don’t we go see the assholes and have them explain it?”

“I am Groot.”

“I said different, not less than.” Rocket puts his paws in his pockets when Groot clambers to the safety of his shoulder, starting off. The two remaining Ravagers have set up quarters in the upper-side of the ship, taking a few rooms. Given the crowded conditions Peter assures the team they were used to, no-one has really begrudged them it. It keeps them to themselves, out of the way and tidy, and Rockets sure his friend needs some time and space after everything that had happened.

Besides. It was obvious that Peter and Yondu were adjusting to this new, spoken thing between them. Physical space was important to make sure no one got cold feet on anything. 

“Hey, Yondu!” Rocket hammered on the door that led to their jumble of rooms, ears pricking up at the sound of footsteps beyond. The door opened to a grinning blue mug, eyes crinkling at the corners when he took it in.

“Hey Rocket. Twig!” Yondu held out his hand, Groot hopping on over eagerly. Rocket watched the plant climb up the leathers with only a small amount of concern - Groot was getting the hang of things more and more, he shouldn’t worry so much. But at least he knew Yondu understood the expression, and the way his shoulders relaxed once Groot was securely perched on a shoulderpad. 

“Can we come in?” Rocket asked, Yondu stepping aside with a noise that sounded affirmative. Kraglin was sprawled on the couch the two had hauled in here, though he took his feet off it when Rocket trudged in. There was still - something there. Rocket could accept Kraglin and his presence, despite the mans strangeness. ‘ _The mate of my brother is not **my** mate_ ’ his people used to say, with an inflection and tone that suggested they were glad they didn’t have to go home with them.

They’d get used to each other, Rocket decided, hopping up onto the chair and nodding to him. Kraglin nodded back.

“I was tryin’ to explain something to Groot and figured you two might wanna just do it y’self.” Rocket explained when Yondu sat next to Kraglin again, patting his shoulder briefly. The motion seemed to calm Kraglin a little, making his shoulders loose again and settle back into the relative plushness of the couch. Groot slid down Yondus chest to land on his lap with a bump, getting to his feet and turning to see both Ravagers.

“I am Groot.”

There was a moments silence. Yondu glanced at Rocket.

“Yeah in retrospect maybe this wasn’t well planned.” Rocket rubbed his face and sighed. “He - okay, now don’t get mad at me. But. I. Told him, you and Kraglin were mates.”

“Course we are.” Kraglin cut in loudly, Yondus mouth open. “We’re real good buddies.” 

“You’re Hraxlian, right Obfonteri?” Rocket asked. Kraglin nodded, shifting in his seat a moment. “Here’s the thing. I saw a mark scar on the back of Yondus neck while I was fittin’ the fin. All teeth. Guessin’ its about twenty years old, that thing.”

“Sounds about right.” Yondu breezed, clapping a hand over Kraglins mouth. “Lil older though. Did it on our weddin’ night. I am _too old_ ,” Yondu said, once he lowered his hand from a fuming mans mouth. “To bother with tryin’ to come up with a cover story. He aint gonna tell anyone, and neither is Twig. Right buddy?” Yondu squeezed Groot in a playful hand, watching the tree wiggle and shake his head happily. 

“Sir-”

“Cool it.” Yondu gave the other man a look, one that was clearly understood. Rocket was still frowning, thinking.

“You got married-?”

“Oh, yeah,” Yondu grinned, throwing his arm around Kraglin and hauling him into his side - for his part, Kraglin only gave a token protest before sagging a little with a sigh. “Got real liquored up and did it quick, like rippin off a band-aid.”

There was something about that, and the defeated sort of look on Kraglins face, that made Rocket howl with laughter and lean forward, demanding more information. If he noticed how Kraglin relaxed under Yondus arm a little more, until his own was resting on his Captains thigh, he didn’t say anything. 

The mate of his brother is not his mate, true, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t afford him some respect. 

~*~

"May I?" Kraglin looks up from the holopad he's abusing to see that weird girls face hovering not far enough from his own, leaning over the back of the couch he and Captain have commandeered to make theirs. 

Its not hard for a Ravager to claim something - while neither of them feel the pressing urge to piss on things, there is a stubbornness in the way they sit on things, feeling the need to reclaim items in their own damn ship. This method - imprinting their bodies and stink into the fabric - is a little less combative and less likely to make Rocket retaliate in kind. Kraglin flinched away a little when he realised, somewhat belatedly, that Mantis had her hand raised, fingertips near his temple.

"What're yu-" 

"My apologies." Mantis' face dropped, her eyes so big and serious. "I did not mean to frighten you. I only wished to get to know you better."

Maybe he's been spending time around Yondu too much, but the kicked puppy face has been working on him more and more recently. Kraglin isn't actually sure how Groot manages to make it, actually, given that he doesn't really have skin to speak of, but more often than not, he finds the little tree being scooped up onto his shoulder, and setting off to find the Captain. Kraglin gave the man beside him a look, nudging him with his elbow and an eloquent message sent via eyebrow.

He gets a grunt and a shrug in return, and returns his attention to Mantis.

"Sure, kiddo." He says, in a good enough mimic of Yondu that it makes him snicker. The girl brightened, rushing around the front of the couch to crouch before them. There's something elated in her face that makes him a little uneasy, but Cap'n had said to let her. 

Its not an uncommon thing for Kraglin to feel like a dog at Yondus orders, and he feels it more now, as if Yondu had happily told the little girl it was fine to pet his puppy. So Kraglin fights down the instinctive urge to snarl and snap at the incoming hand, his shoulders and neck going wire-tight with the repression. Every hair on his body bristles as Mantis' fingers graze the air just past his skin, then his cheek, her fingertips softer than any touch he's known in years and years. 

Kraglin shudders. The weight of Yondu against his side, firm and unyielding and reassuring, is the only thing keeping him on the couch as he threatens to vibrate through it from tension alone. 

"Oh." Mantis' tone is wondering, her eyes somehow getting wider. She presses her palm against his cheek more, as if sinking into something and relishing it, her eyes shutting tight with delight. "Oh, thats - oh," Shes laughing now, something that Kraglin feels he should be vaguely offended about.

He's absolutely offended by the way she leaned over and kissed Yondus cheek, her whole face lighting up again. 

"Oh," She turned again, kissing Kraglins cheek - then back to the Captain - then himself. He met Yondus eyes over her head, his expression concerned and bemused. Its been years since they've shared a girl, he realises. Between the urge to explore dying off, and not wanting to bother with making themselves presentable for womenfolk, and having to pay the hookers extra to make them put up with both of them, the opportunity hadn't really come along.

"Well," Yondu drawled, reaching out for her. Mantis slipped onto his lap eagerly, sitting side-saddle on his thigh so she could continue trading kisses between their cheeks. Kraglin shifted closer, watching the wide spread of blue fingers around her tiny waist, keeping her close to Yondus chest. "Aint you a friendly lil bug." 

"I am not a bug." Shes giggling though, and accepts the blue nose nuzzling behind her ear as Kraglin shifts forward. Anything touching his head, or his neck, tends to put him on edge. Only the Captain is allowed that honour, so he's glad when her hand slides down from his cheek to his shoulder, tugging on his shoulderpad. 

"You coulda just asked." He says, catching her hand and bringing it up to his lips to kiss. He can feel the pulse in her wrist, strong against the flat of his teeth, and he nips there gently to hear her squeak. 

"What is this." There were few voices that could make your cock attempt to invert itself into your abdomen. Drax's was one of them. He stood in the doorway, his eyes burning as he looked between the three of them. It was probably not a pretty sight, Yondu realised - Draxs' giggling pet bug, cuddled in between the two big bad Ravagers, their hands on her and lips against her skin. 

"Hey buddy," He said defensively, wrapping his arm around Mantis' waist and hearing her coo. "She started it. Gotta let her make her own decisions sometimes."

"She is too young to be making any sort of decision like this." Theres something Yondu wants to protest there. Mostly how Mantis is a young woman, not a child, and its rather demeaning for Drax to assume he knows her wants or needs. Shes capable of making her own decisions, and even her own mistakes - they gotta fly the nest sometime.

Hell, look at his parenting methods with Peter. Totally hands-off, best for independance. And he'd turned out alright.

Still, Yondu knows better than to argue with a man whos biceps sometimes blot out the sun from portholes. So he doesn't quibble when Drax hauls Mantis off his lap and out of their reach, keeping her protectively behind him. Mantis' giggles trail off, replaced with a dark red blush.

"I'm so sorry," She gasped, peering around her protectors arm with something close to dismay. "I think - I think I got carried away with, everything I was feeling-"

"Donchu worry princess." Yondu gives Kraglin a glance, then a snort. He knows his man and his mans tastes when it comes to women, and he has to admit Mantis fits them. Petite, giggly, kinda weird in the face. Princess was what he liked to call his favourite whores back on the mother-moon, Yondu remembers. Kraglin elbows him as an afterthought, giving Mantis a tooth-filled grin. "We certainly don't mind."

Mantis' cheeks turn an uncomfortable shade of red, and she shakes her head. Yondu frowns a little and elbows Kraglin right back, shaking his head when he gets an obedient look. Drax shooed Mantis out of the room, shutting the door behind her. When he comes over, his pace is measured - its obvious he's thinking something through very carefully. 

"What are your intentions with Mantis." Drax asked when he was sitting on the coffee table, the furniture creaking in protest. Kraglin barked a laugh, sitting back with an expression Yondu can read as a scowl. 

"Why not ask her what her intentions were with us." He shoots back, Draxs' shoulders stiffening. "We were mindin' our own business, she comes over, paws at me and then starts kissin' our faces off."

"We weren't kiddin, she did start it." Yondu shook his head a little, his expression mournful. "If you wanna stick her y'self, you might want to tell her. Maybe so she can at least stretch first, cos you'll rip her in half otherwise."

"Yeah, thats gonna be something I'd wanna watch." Kraglin nodded, giving Yondu a grin that was mostly sleaze. "Christ, it must be the size of her arm. She'll feel it alright. Thats if Ego wasn't stickin' it to her on the reg-"

"Nah, she's never been broken in, you can tell." Yondu nodded, giving Drax a dazzling silver smile. "Don't worry buddy. You want first dibs on it, you go ahead." 

"Enough." Drax isn't loud about it, but the way he stands up abruptly makes volume unnecessary. Kraglin and Yondu share a smirk, leaning back in their seats as he stands before them. They have to look up to maintain eye contact, and although neither have reached for their weapons, Drax could see more tension in their shoulders that implied they were ready to. "You do not know what you speak of, so I will only warn you once; I am a married man, with a beloved wife. Your insinuations about Mantis and myself are an insult."

"Your wife is dead, buddy." Kraglin pointed out in a slow drawl, his smirk curling the edges of his lips - beside him, Yondu snickers a little and kicks his feet up onto the little table before them, his thigh bumping up against Kraglins in a way that seems to embolden him. "Hate t'be the bearer of bad news. But th'upside is, that makes you single again."

"Would you consider yourself single again if he had remained dead? Oh yes," Drax drops the hand he had used to gesture at Yondu, taking in their now-frozen smiles. "I read your files. You have been wed for over twenty-two years now, yes?" He paused, considered, taking in their vaguely panicked side-glances with a small amount of vindictive satisfaction. "My congratulations. But my point is made, I think."

"You aint-"

"Your business is your business." Drax waved a ham-sized hand as he turned, making his slow, ponderous way out of the room.

~*~

Yondu studied the bridge. All of them - the woman, the brick, the girl, Rocket and Twig. Peter and Kraglin don’t factor into the maths he’s pulling in his head, clearly, so he ignores them. When he’s satisfied with whatever outcome his calculations give him, he slings his arm around Kraglins waist and hauls him against his side for warmth and comfort. And because it makes him yelp in a squawking, birdish manner, and that amuses him. 

“They all know, dumbass.” He says, catching Kraglins frantically swatting hand and grinning at him when he kisses the back of it. “Think about how much we can gross Quill out now.”

Kraglin stills and smirks, and Peter curses.


End file.
